The Glow
by Phat Leonopteryx
Summary: War does things to everyone who sees it, and the Avatar is just a boy. Flying North, he and his companions must navigate the horrors of war, and their own broken lives. Surrounded by death, they must live fast in every way. No one will come out unscarred.
1. Escaped

**_I DO NOT OWN AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER, OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS ASSOCIATED WITH IT, AND IT'S MOST DEFINITELY BETTER THAT WAY._**

* * *

**__**_IMPRISONED_

It was late afternoon when a cry from above deck wrenched Zuko from his meditation. The candles he had been tending with his breath flickered, a few going out, while others flared up. He opened his eyes, squinting at first against the bright flame. He took moment to adjust to the contrast. Slowly, the reds and blacks of his cabin, dimly lit, filled his peripheral vision. Unmoving, he waited. A few moments passed, with nothing but the sounds of the ship's machinery rumbling and clanking in the background. Then, heavy steps cut through the ambience; metal boots on metal floor, walking quickly, growing louder. Just outside his chamber, they came to a stop. There was a pause, then a knock on his door. _Clang clang._

Zuko rose to his feet, letting the candles go out. He was bathed in darkness.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, the prison…" The soldier's voice muffled by the thick metal of the door, faltered and trailed off. There was something in that voice that Zuko couldn't place.

"Sir," It came again, "you'll want to see this."

Zuko raised his eyebrow. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he lit the candles again.

He had been wearing his armor already, so as not to be caught unawares if they did spot the Avatar again. Preparedness was essential. It was his new mantra, his guiding philosophy. This Airbender, this… child, was full of surprises. He could not afford another setback like the disaster at the South Pole.

Zuko smirked, remembering the confrontation that the damage to his vessel had brought on. Who ever said this tiresome life was without some pleasures?

"…we first spotted the wreckage about an hour ago. Your uncle ordered us to close in, sir."

_Wreckage? _The soldier's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He sped up, striding rapidly through the darkened corridor.

"Wreckage? What are you babbling about?"

The soldier cringed before his irritation, quickly opening the portal before him before falling behind. Zuko took a few quick steps onto the deck, just enough to see the ocean, and stopped dead in his tracks.

For miles off the starboard side, the waves were strewn with the detritus of battle. As far as Zuko could see, metal beams, plating, and shards of hull cluttered the water, clanking against each other as they slowly sank. There were shreds of fabric, rugs and clothing and banners, all red and black. Then he saw the corpses.

Hundreds of men floated amongst the wreckage, many facedown, bloated beyond recognition by the seawater, seabirds already swooping in to pick away at them. Though many had died by drowning, there were those whose broken limbs were beginning to fall away from the softening of the water, and those who had been charred and blackened, whose flesh was split and oozing. A few clung to floating wreckage, even in death. Zuko felt a chill as he looked into their lifeless faces. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes met Iroh's, betraying his sudden distress, if only for a moment. Then his gaze was back on the water, scanning the carnage.

"Who were they fighting? Only a huge battle could have done this…"

No one responded to his musings.

"Where are the other banners? I only see Fire Nation standards!"

"Prince Zuko!" A call came from above. The lookout was leaned far over the rail, spyglass in hand, pointing off into the orange horizon. Zuko looked, but saw only faint, dark shapes, surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke. After a moment squinting, he called back.

"Take us in closer!"

"Aye aye, sir!"

Several minutes later, aboard the bridge of the ship, it was Zuko who held the spyglass. Iroh stood at his side, the aging man's normal contented demeanor sobered by the carnage surrounding them.

It took some careful maneuvering on the part of the helmsman to avoid the larger pockets of destruction, a process made no easier by Zuko's constant pressuring. Slowly, the warship wove it's way to the epicenter of the wreckage.

The prince and his uncle made their way onto the balcony.

Several hundred yards beyond the ship's prow was the prison barge- or what was left of it. It's hulking frame had been completely warped and bent out of shape, torn apart. Large sections of the hull had burst open, letting in the sea, which must have filled everything below deck. The side of the hull that had not sunk into the ocean was covered in massive scars, left by Fireblasts the likes of which Zuko could only imagine, and bubbles where the sea had pushed out against the lower air pressure, warping the metal into what looked like boils in it's iron flesh. There were even blast holes, where it seemed Fire Nation ships had opened fire on the barge. It's high walls had been blown down by fire and water, and entire sections barely hung on only by their structural supports, gutted. Massive mounds of coal flamed on deck, seemingly ignited in the battle. In the water were more casualties: Fire Nation soldiers, mixed with their Earthbender prisoners.

The ravaged barge was flanked by several warships, each more damaged than the last. Two of them were well on their way to being devoured by the waves, only their prows still showing. One was listing heavily to it's side, a massive hole revealing it's flooded innards. Everything was on fire.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh intoned, voice gravelly, "we should search for survivors. It will help us to discover what happened here."

Zuko nodded, half-present, eyes fixed on the sinking barge.

"I agree. Comb the wreckage for anyone living."

Immediately the crew sprung to action, their experience, years ahead of their Prince's own, taking over. Iroh looked back out at the cluttered sea, then turned his eye to his nephew once again.

"Zuko."

The Prince turned his head ever so slightly to in response. He said nothing.

"Perhaps you would like to return to your meditation? I can take care of things here."

"…no, I'm… I'll stay here, Uncle."

The old man turned away with a sigh.

It was hours before they found anyone. Zuko remained on the balcony for some time, attention fixed on the sinking ships and their crews. Below him, his own men wove back and forth, combing the wreckage for any signs of life. It was Iroh who commanded them, leaving his nephew in as much peace as was possible. Though he would have liked nothing more than to be at the boys side to help him comprehend the scene, it was much more urgent that any survivors be rescued- and that the crew was distracted from their own thoughts by action. Still, every so often he looked up at Zuko, checking that the young man was alright. As they made their third pass around the least submerged warship, the captain caught him looking.

"It's always a bit of a shock," he ventured, approaching cautiously, "the first time."

Iroh's head swiveled back to the water.

"Shame he had to see this much at once," the sailor said.

"These are trying times, Captain. It had to happen eventually."

"…I suppose you're right, Sir."

Iroh stole another glance at Zuko. _That look on his face… so much like-_

"General Iroh!"

"What is it?" he called back, taking long strides across the deck. At the port side, one of the sailors beckoned to him, peering back and forth over the side. "Have you found a survivor?"

Reaching the edge of the deck, he placed a hand on the cold metal of the rail, and leaned over. Sloshing around in the water below was their single rowboat, deployed hours ago. Three men sat in it, one securing ropes beneath it's tiny hull, the other two tending to a fourth. The survivor, drenched, shivering, and coughing, slowly sat up. One of the others breathed deep, and a fireball bloomed in his hand. The shivering man raised his own before it to absorb the heat.

A great deal of heaving and straining later, Iroh and the three rushed the survivor inside, maintaining a steady flame in front of him.

Zuko almost ran through the corridors and down the narrow stairs, until, turning a corner, he nearly collided with the first mate. He and Iroh were leading the survivor, who they had wrapped in a thick woolen blanket. They sat the man down on a cot in the nearest cabin. Zuko pulled up a stool and took a seat several feet away, examining their catch.

The survivor was Fire Nation, and a Firebender as well, for he started to breathe what little energy he had into a small flame between his palms - at this point Iroh stopped him, and with a polite "allow me" made one of his own. The soldier couldn't have been much older than Zuko; his face, pale and distraught, was unwrinkled. His topknot had come undone, and his hair, thick and black and soaked, was everywhere. He wore standard issue armor, which Iroh and the first mate quickly began to remove- the cold metal would only rob him of more warmth.

As they struggled with the soldier's chest piece, Zuko's impatience overflowed.

"What happened out there?" He demanded.

"Prince Zuko," came Iroh's voice, low and calm, pleading with him to wait.

"Prince-?" The survivor's eyes snapped from his inhibiting armor to Zuko, and fell on the infamous scar. With some trouble, he brought himself down on one knee, and his hands together in salute. "Sir!"

Zuko straightened up a bit.

Finally removing the last of the armor, Iroh pulled the man back onto the cot he had been seated on, and threw the blanket back over his shoulders. Eyes still dancing over the Prince's visage, he grabbed the blanket, and wrapping himself in it, started to dry his hair.

"What is your name, soldier?" Iroh asked, breathing more life into the flame in his hand.

"Li Kuai, Sir. I'm a- _was_ a guard at the prison."

"Who attacked you?" Zuko demanded, yet again, his intensity returning.

"There was no attack, Sir. At least, no ships." He paused. "It was the Avatar."

Iroh seemed to deflate a little, the slightest slouch setting in. Zuko was suddenly unsure.

"All of this? How? What happened?"

Li Kuai took a deep, shivering breath.

"It was early in the morning, just a few minutes after I started my shift. I was making the rounds on the outer rig, just… looking at the ocean. Suddenly I hear shouting from the prison yard. Another guard runs up to me, tells me we've captured the Avatar. He says he must have snuck in sometime in the night. They were trying to… free the prisoners, somehow." He paused. "I left my post. I shouldn't have, but I had to get a look. We met up with some more guys, and they say the Avatar came with friends. Said one of them was a girl… and we hadn't had a _woman_ on board in months. The guys were getting real excited. It sounded like the warden was gonna… ah, keep her onboard."

Zuko registered Iroh letting out a heavy sigh. The old man had looked away for a moment.

"Then there's this commotion. I can hear more shouting in the yard, and then the girl screaming above us. There was silence, then..."

Zuko had been leaning closer, now only inches from Li Kuai. His eyes scanned over man, anticipating.

"What?"

"Something must have happened, because everyone above deck went real quiet. Then there was one long, shrill scream. The woman. There was this loud grating noise _inside the rig, _all around us. Pipes started to burst, steam was everywhere… I could hear fighting…" Li Kuai's eyes widened for a moment in realization. "It was the coal. He bent the coal right up outta the ship! Then he brought the ocean in on us. Next thing I know we're all under water. Got tossed around like a rag doll, could feel everything shifting around me. I started to swim the way I thought was up."

Zuko was even closer, now.

"And the scorch marks? The hull is _melted."_

"I think… he musta started to Firebend. When I surfaced, everything had gone to hell. There was coal, and fire, and a _storm._ I think the patrol ships tried to do something. I don't know, it was chaos- I could barely stay afloat. I guess I'm just lucky I wasn't on the deck. That there were walls between me and-"

Iroh's took a firm grip on Li Kuai's shoulder.

"It is over now. You survived."

There was a pause. Zuko, pulling back, realized he had been holding his breath.

Iroh called to the soldiers stationed in the hall.

"Hey!" he shouted. A skull faceplate appeared in the doorway.

"Get me my teapot and cups. They are in my cabin."

The soldier clanked away. As his footsteps faded, Iroh patted Li Kuai on the back.

"You know, you have something of a knack for storytelling…"

A tiny spot of wet splashed against Aang's cheek, then another. As the rain picked up it's rhythm, he began to stir.

The first thing he noticed was the stiffness in his muscles, as if every part of him was heavier. Next there was a throbbing in his temple, like he had been struck. As he started to move, he noticed the pain around his wrists. He sat up, groaning. Looking down at his hands, he noticed a dark ring of bruised flesh encircling each wrist. _Handcuffs._

Suddenly alert, he whipped his head around, taking stock of his surroundings. There was leather beneath him, and bundles of supplies, wrapped in seal skins … _Appa! But then… Katara. Sokka. Where… _Taking a knee, Aang spotted a mane of curly brown hair, blowing in the wind, just over the furry, white hump of the Bison's mighty shoulders. But Katara's own shoulders were bare. As he drew closer, he saw that her clothing was torn, her arms bruised. A wave of concern, of fear, began to wash over him.

"Katara…" She flinched when she heard her name, her hands tightening on Appa's reins, but she did not turn around.

"Katara," his voice came again, "are you alright?"

She felt his hand on her shoulder, but did not turn. His touch was light, gentle, fearful. Did he remember?

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," she laughed, but did not turn.

"How are you feeling? I hope you're well enough to go get food." Her voice was shaky, uneven. "It'll take my leg a while to heal, so…"

Aang eyes widened, his mouth opening silently, as a sob leaked from Katara's throat. She began to shake in his grip, still refusing to face him. He lowered himself down next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. As the sobs began to pick up, cutting through the rhythm of the rain, she collapsed into the boy's arms.

Confused, Aang lifted a hand from Katara's shoulder, letting it rest on her cheek for a moment before gently nudging her up to face him.

Aang gasped as their eyes met. Only one of her stunning blue orbs looked back at him, the other swollen shut. The beautiful curve of her face was heavily bruised, bulging alarmingly, the rich mocha of her skin warped by splotches of purple and black. A trickle of blood, now dried, ran from her nose down to her chin; her lips, usually so full and soft, were chapped and split, bleeding still. There was the slightest cut on the nape of her neck. Her beaten cheeks were wet with tears.

Looking her up and down, Aang realized her shirt was nearly torn away. The sleeves were gone, and it was ruffled- it had been pulled open. The bindings beneath ever so slightly ruffled, and scratched, as if by a knife, but intact.

"Katara… what…?"

Another sob wracked her beaten frame, and he felt his arms wrapping themselves back around her reflexively. He noticed that one of her legs was not under her, but stretched in front, as straight as it would go. She had wrapped it in spare bandages.

As Aang raised his own eyes, wet with tears, from Katara, his clarity returned. A sinking feeling, like a freezing wave, washed over him. He felt… sober.

"Katara, is Sokka…?"

She only sobbed.

* * *

_**REVIEWS: PLEASE GIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM. TRY TO MIX IN SOMETHING BAD WITH YOUR PRAISE, OR SOMETHING GOOD WITH YOUR CRITICISM. **_

_**REMEMBER THAT THE CORE CONCEPT HERE IS A PORTRAYAL OF THE WORLD AND EVENTS OF A:TLA FROM A DARKER AND MORE REALISTIC LENS.**_


	2. Reinforced

**STILL DON'T OWN AVATAR.**

* * *

Aang's hands were balled into fists around Appa's reins, clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. They had passed through the thickest parts of the storm, and Aang could see, far in the distance, the places where the sun had begun to punch through. They were flying high, so as to avoid being easily spotted from the ground, but below the cloud cover. All around them was grey, a thick blanket of colorlessness that stretched on in every direction. Every so often Aang reached up to wipe the water from his face. The rain pounded against him, soaking through his robes and chilling him to the bone. The wind whipped at his ears with such an intensity that he didn't even bother to bend it away. Not that he would have. He couldn't hear anything but the howl of the air around him- and it was better that way. Better to distract him, better to drown out his thoughts than to-

"AANG!" Katara's voice cut through the downpour. He glanced back. She was breathing hard; she must have been screaming at the top of her lungs. Aang's eyes dropped back to the reins for a moment, then back to the girl. There was that pleading look, the one that melted him, shining through the bruises and the swelling, and suddenly Aang felt the stress hit him like another gust of wind. He was heavy again.

They had been flying so long through the storm that Aang had lost track of time. The hours flowed together, like deep meditation, emptying his mind of all thought. There had been images, flashes of those final moments before the silent screaming filled him, before everything went white, but he had pushed them out, the way the monks had taught him to. To stop would mean it all came back to him. He grit his teeth.

"AANG!"

"Fly straight, Appa!" He yelled, patting the Bison's soaking fur. There was a rumble in response, a deep sound that the two felt more than they heard. With a twist, Aang launched himself off of Appa's neck, then let the rushing wind catch him, carrying him like a leaf into the Bison's saddle. Katara was leaned against the risen edge of the saddle, broken leg outstretched, but still sat straight, not slouching at all. Aang crossed his legs, and let his hands rest limply in the gap between them. The bruises on his wrists ached.

Both teens were silent for a moment. Aang's gaze, dull and tired, was fixed on his lap. There were bags under his eyes, and a slouch in his back. Katara searched his face, her own brow creasing in concern. She hadn't seen the boy like this since the Air Temple, and even then, for less than an hour. But now he had yet to bounce back from the depression. She might have felt a tear rolling down her cheek, or it might have been the rain.

"…Do you need anything, Katara?"

"No, Aang, I just thought you might… need to talk it out. I haven't seen you like this before. It's scary."

He glanced up at her, his face neutral. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to _think _about it. Do you?"

She looked away, biting down on her lip, ignoring the pain it caused. She knew the tears were flowing now.

"Planning on landing anytime soon?" She ventured, a weak smile on her stinging lip. Her own voice was alien to her, fragile and barely audible over the wind and rain. Aang lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"No. We need to keep flying," he said. His voice was raised over the noise, but it was empty, devoid of any emotion Katara could hear, and his face devoid of any she could see. "It's not safe. We need to put as much distance between us and that… big hunk of metal!"

Watching Aang's voice change, Katara felt a dull ache in her chest, which, while uncomfortable, was welcome, breaking through the exhaustion that weighed down her mind and body. As Aang's brow furrowed, his eyes squinting, she was fleetingly aware of her own face mirroring his.

"Aang, we've been flying for almost a day… You need to rest. We both do." She tried her soothing tone, the almost motherly one, but it was the voice she always put on when _Sokka _was hurt, or he did something idiotic, and Katara could feel her mind straying back to the prison, to what they had done to him. She was fighting not to think about it, to think about _anything else-_

"No! They're hunting us, I know it. After what I did…" The emotion was back in Aang's voice, but Katara was no longer sure that was a good thing.

"Aang… do you remember?" She asked, and immediately regretted it. His only response was a clenching of his fists, a twisting up of his face. Then he was on his feet.

"I'll take us down. We can't outrun the Fire Nation without any rest." With that, he leapt back to Appa's reins.

"Aang!" He couldn't hear her over the storm, but she didn't care anymore. "Please..."

Pulling a blanket from one of the packs, and wrapping herself in it, Katara settled into place on the wet saddle, curling up as best she could with her stiff and aching leg. Her eyes stung, but she was afraid to close them, in fear of what she might see.

"Just talk to me," she said to herself, though she could not hear her own voice.

As Aang filled his mind with the noise of the storm, she filled hers with him- how she could protect him, keep him secret, the fastest way to the North Pole… she lay on her side, letting her head rest on the soaking leather. Her hair fell all around her face, but she did not care. All that mattered was Aang, and helping him end the war. There was nothing else as important.

_There's nothing else __**left.**_

Katara began to shiver, and the tears came again, stronger than the rain that pounded down on them.

Aang, hunched over Appa's reins, could just barely hear Katara's sobbing over the storm. He felt his stomach twist itself in a knot, and his eyes felt dry and empty, but he only tightened his grip on the reins, and let the torrent of sound wash over him again.

* * *

Zuko woke late in the morning. He had hung a tapestry over the only porthole of his cabin, and so he was still surrounded by darkness long after the sun rose. It was his fire that woke him, a knot of heat low in his chest, that damned _burning _that settled in when he had made no progress in his search for too long. There was the time when a month-long series of tips and rumors on the outskirts of some minor Earth Kingdom fiefdom had led to nothing but a hovel of haggard resistance leaders, and it had threatened to explode out of his chest, but he instead breathed it out upon the village. Despite his venting, the flame had lingered for a week before subsiding. It was useful; it made his flames stronger, hotter, but Zuko did not know how long it would be until he needed such ferocity again, and to let it well up inside him was too uncomfortable. Now it was back, and he needed to Firebend. He rose from his bed angrily, with purpose, and tore the tapestry down from the wall.

Light flooded the room, and he clenched his eyes shut in pain for a moment. Then he opened them in a squint, and as he felt the sun kindling the fire in him even further, began to dress himself.

Iroh stood on the deck, watching as Li Kuai attempted a series of Firebending forms. Most he failed, and miserably. His footing was weak, too rooted, like an Earthbender. A bad Earthbender. His breath was weaker; it came in short pants between movements, and when the soldier turned it to flame, the flame was weak. As his last burst of fire sputtered out before it's time, Iroh spoke up.

"Perhaps you are not fully recovered, my friend," he ventured, somewhat nervously in the face of the display, "you were in the water for quite a while."

Li Kuai looked up at the old man, a smile teasing at his mouth. Iroh took note of his eyes- they were a light yellow, nowhere near the golden tone of the royal family and their court. His skin was well tanned, near the hue of the outlying Earth Kingdom lands. His hair, however, was straight and black, distinctly Fire Nation.

"I'm afraid I was never much of a Bender, General Iroh," he apologized, bowing lightly.

"Don't sell yourself short!" Iroh chuckled. "Tell me, Lieutenant, are you a colony man?"

"Yes, sir. My parents lived in Hu Xin, but we came West after I was born. Earthbender rebellions."

"They can be very fearsome," Iroh nodded. "So why has an upstanding soldier such as yourself not pursued Firebending further?"

Li Kuai shifted uncomfortably. "Didn't know I could bend until I was sixteen, and by then I was already enlisted, training with weaponry. Didn't make much sense to backtrack."

"Ahh, so you are a master of armed combat!" Iroh's eyes lit up. He glanced at Zuko, who had just shoved the door open with some unnecessary force, and was marching towards the center of the deck. Iroh could see the frustration boiling beneath the Prince's exterior.

"Good morning, Prince Zuko," he said, gesturing for Li Kuai to step out of Zuko's proximity, "The lieutenant here was just telling me about his mastery of weaponry."

"I don't know if _mastery_ is-"

"Maybe you should fetch your Dao blades. You could both use the challenge."

Zuko, facing away from his uncle, took a low stance, one arm forward, palm open, the other in a fist above his shoulder.

"I need to Firebend, Uncle. Maybe later."

"Very well. Lieutenant, would you like to join me for breakfast? Perhaps you can regale me with more stories of your lively career."

"Certainly, General."

Li Kuai straightened his topknot, then followed Iroh. In the corner of his eye, Zuko watched as they walked to the door, then stepped inside. Then, he let loose.

* * *

Aang guided Appa down over a forest, flying low over the treetops until he spotted a wide stream cutting through the wall of vegetation. The opening was not wide, and the Bison lightly brushed against a few branches on the way down, but they landed without any trouble.

Aang let go of Appa's reins, only to feel a new pain in his hands. Looking down, he saw he had grown a layer of blisters where the top of his palms had gripped the leather straps. Shaking his hands out, he looked around.

It wasn't much of a clearing that they had landed in. Where Appa stood, there was maybe two yards of space between the trees; he had to guide the behemoth down over the stream, and now it flowed between his trunk-like legs. The split in the forest grew thinner down the stream, until the trees swallowed it completely. Aang could just barely make out the top of a waterfall in the shade, and his mouth hung open slightly. He realized he was very thirsty.

A groan snatched his attention back. Rising to his feet, he looked over into the saddle, where Katara lay.

She must have awoken just as they landed, and she began to prop herself up as Aang glided into the saddle beside her.

"Where are we?" She groaned. Aang scanned her deshevelled form. The bruises had gone down in their swelling, but were still as purple as ever. It was her face that concerned him, her expression. It was a mask of solitude, reminiscent of the Old Masters at the Air Temple- and felt a pang in his chest, and cursed himself for letting his mind wander.

Katara caught the subtle twinge in his expression, and extended a hand, which she lay on Aang's knee.

"What is it? Are you okay?"

A dry chuckle leaked from his lips, and both were surprised at the cynicism in it.

"I'm not the one with the broken leg."

Katara frowned slightly, her eyebrow raising the tiniest bit. Aang, making eye contact with her, ignored it.

"We're in the Earth Kingdom, a few miles from the coast. I was careful not to land near any towns."

Katara's first thought was that Earth Kingdom towns would be safe, but she remembered the imprisoned Earthbenders, with their broken wills, and said nothing.

She felt Aang's hand under her injured leg.

"W-what are you doing?" She asked, as his other hand slipped under her arm. He looked at her sideways, as if bewildered by her question.

"Helping you up," he muttered, his voice unsure.

"Aang, I don't need you to baby me. I set the bones by myself- I can get off Appa just fine."

Gently removing Aang's arm from under hers, she looked into his eyes. Despite the bags under them, which she was sure were under hers as well, the stormy grey was impossible to ignore. She recalled the hues of the storm, and then the one before it, the tempest with Aang at it's center, and she looked away. He stepped back, watching awkwardly as she half pushed, half pulled herself up, using the edge of the saddle as support. She struggled with it, ending up sideways, arm looped over the edge, injured leg splayed out parallel to the saddle.

"Really, Aang, I'm fine," she told him, grunting, "just… unload our- ah!"

He had passed a cushioning gust of wind under her, which carried her up a few inches, pillow-like. Then his arms were beneath her again, bridal style. He leapt from the saddle, gliding down to the edge of the stream below.

Katara felt a slight flush in her cheeks as he held her, a little closer to him than seemed necessary, and perhaps for an instant longer, as well.

"Aang?"

"Huh?"

"You can put me down…"

His face remained serious, and she saw none of the redness in his cheeks that was in hers.

"I'm looking for a good spot to set up camp."

"Oh." She hadn't been held like this since before dad left. From then on it had always been someone else sick, or broken, or tired, and Katara the only one in any shape to care for them. She had forgotten the feeling. Her thoughts strayed again, and she let them, first to her father, waving as his ship cast off from the icy shore, then to Gran- Gran watching as she and Sokka were in the same position. Then to Sokka.

Katara let out a heavy, shaky breath, and Aang looked down at her. She lay her head against his chest.

"I'm out of tears," she said, plainly.

Walking over to a small flat patch of earth just on the tree line, he crouched, and carefully set her down. The tiniest frown flitted across his exhausted features as his hands left the warmth of her back.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked. She looked up at him -her eyes were glazed over, and Aang knew he probably looked no better- and brought a hand up to her chapped lips.

"Yeah," she whispered, voice shaky. Her throat was incredibly dry.

He blew himself back up into Appa's saddle, and began searching for Katara's water pouch. As he fumbled through their packs, he grabbed sleeping furs and other necessities, tossing them down one by one. Katara, straightening her posture as much as she could without sending painful twinges through her leg, extended her arms in the direction of the water, muscles relaxed. Breathing deeply, she waited, feeling for the _push_ and the _pull_. When she had it, she joined in, pulling only, letting the natural pushing of the current do the rest. Back and forth, several times, she pulled, and let the water slosh back. After the third push, she pulled further, and the water flowed through the air, slowly crossing over the few feet of campground. Maybe it was the dull state of her senses, but the water flowed smoother than she had felt before. She looked at her hands, and realized her fingers were loose, almost limp. Usually she gestured, hoping to grasp the water and command it. She grabbed with her fingers, curious to feel the difference. Immediately, ripples appeared in the globule of water before her, and as the muscles of her hands engaged, it broke, splashing onto the dry earth. _Huh._

The near-undetectable sound of Aang's feet touching ground caught her attention, and her head swiveled to see him. He walked toward her, their two sleeping bags rolled up under his arms, and a tired smirk on his face.

"What was that? You had it."

"Just practicing a bit." She returned the smirk, but her facial muscles cried out in protest, and it felt hollow. Aang reached down and placed her sleeping bag under her, and when she had unrolled it, she collapsed on it. She let her eyes close for a moment before recalling why she was avoiding it.

Aang stood several steps away, thinking about something. Catching Katara's eyes on him, he tossed his sleeping bag down next to her, and sighed.

"I'm not sure if I can even go to sleep now," he muttered, "It must still be morning."

"We should at least try."

Aang frowned. "But if someone finds us while we're sleeping…"

Katara sat up. "Okay. Do you… wanna talk?"

Rather than give an answer, Aang slumped down into a sitting position on his sleeping bag. Katara turned toward him as much as she could, until the foot of her broken leg was a few inches from his knee. There was a pause, each one gathering their thoughts. It was Aang who broke the silence.

"You're used to taking care of people, aren't you?"

"How could you guess?" She sniffed, a weak smile on her lips. "I just sort of… fell into it, after my dad left. I was the only one who _could _take care of everybody. Everyone else was too young, or too old, or… you know, Sokka."

Glancing up at him, she saw a tiny smile on his face as well, even as her own faded.

"I know," he said, extending his hand. He could hear the grief slowly gathering in her voice, and it scared him. She took his hand, squeezing it, and continued.

"My _whole family _is gone," she cried, the tears breaking free. "They're all gone. After mom died, I got so close to dad, when he had to leave…" She barely repressed a sob, instead taking a heaving breath. "Then it was just Sokka, and I had to protect him, and now..."

Aang scooted forward, letting Katara fall into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and felt wetness on his cheek as well.

"I did this," she sobbed. The words cut through Aang like a knife. "_I did this!_ It was my idea to sneak into the prison! My fault…"

Aang's arms suddenly tightened around her, and she looked up at him. Tears were pouring from his eyes, falling next to hers onto her robe. There was a look on his face she hadn't seen before. It was part anger, part fear, but determined, looking _into _her.

"No! Katara, it's not."

She only hugged him tighter. "But I-"

"It's nobody's fault. You didn't do this! You didn't kill Sokka, you didn't kill all those soldiers!"

Katara realized she could feel Aang shaking against her. He was gripping her so tightly it almost hurt, a look of terror slowly spreading over his face.

"Aang…"

"What did I do, Katara?" His voice was shaky now. "I remember them dragging you way, screaming, and they hit me in the head, and then the one with the knife-" He stopped himself. "And then it was like there were a hundred voices screaming inside me, but I couldn't hear, couldn't see… and then I was in the water, and there were dead people all around me!"

"Aang, it wasn't-"

"**What did I **_**do?**"_ He shouted. Appa rumbled behind them. He closed his eyes, and a string of images flashed through his mind.

_Floating above the deck, water and wind around me, screaming, screaming everywhere they're running? Now THEY'RE scared? I'll burn all of them burn all of them burn all of- _

_"_Ahh!" Aang cried, his hands flying over his eyes. They were scrunched tightly shut, his face a mask of pain and fear. The images were gone- all but one.

_Sokka fell to the deck, coughing, blood leaking from his mouth and his nose and his gut. He looked up, pleading, his eyes leaping to Aang, who was bound, Katara, as she disappeared into the darkness, to the soldier standing over him. One hand clutched at his stomach, the other palmed the ground, trying to push him up, but a kick landed on his back, forcing him to the ground. The redness was pooling beneath him, around him._

It was Katara's touch that brought him back. Her hands found his wrists, gently tugging, and they fell away from his face, limply. His eyes met hers, both brimming with tears. Then her hands were on his cheeks, softly cupping them.

"You can't control it, Aang. You know that," she breathed. Then she leaned in, bringing her face to Aang's, until their foreheads rested against each other. Katara closed her eyes, her face scrunching up as the tears came again, this time stronger.

"You're all I've got left, Aang," she sobbed.

He brought his arms back up, encircling her tightly, and hers fell down around his shoulders. They hugged fiercely, her hand finding the back of his head, and pulling it down into her shoulder. Neither of them moved for what seemed like hours, letting their tears soak each other's clothes, letting the other absorb their wracking sobs.

* * *

Iroh, having beaten Li Kuai in Pai Sho for what must have been the fifth time, and deciding it was time for a breath of fresh air, strode out to the balcony (in truth, also the crow's nest and lookout's post, but it was a strangely situated thing) and inhaled deeply.

A cry of frustration caught his ear, and after scanning the midday horizon -it was a beautiful sight, calm blue sea for miles, the faint edges of a storm far off to the port side, and the bracing smell of the ocean all around- directed his attention down to the deck.

Zuko launched into a high kick, a torrent of flame exploding from his outstretched foot, and landed perfectly, immediately taking flight again with an aerial twist, a movement which threw more fire in three directions, and ended with both arms outstretched, as if ready to strike at two opponents. Zuko took a deep, rasping breath- he had been drilling hard. A sheen of sweat was visible on his bare back, and on his head. The Prince retook his starting stance, breathing deeply for a few moments, preparing to repeat the set. Then he was interrupted.

"Wonderful energy, Prince Zuko," came Iroh's voice, ringing out from the lookout's post. The old man was clapping. "But I suggest you compose yourself. We have company."

Zuko took a few quick steps to the edge of the deck, and looked out over the water. Three ships approached, two small Frigates escorting a Cruiser, larger than Zuko's craft by far. In a moment, Zuko had crossed back over the deck, and was throwing open the door. A puff of flame escaped from his gritted teeth. His brow was furrowed.

"Zhao."

The Prince rushed back to his room. With all the speed he could muster, he threw on a shirt, then his armor over it. The last greave was a bit loose, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't be fighting. Grabbing a cloth from the iron trunk that lay at the foot of his bed, he wiped the sweat from his face. Then he was out again.

When he returned to the deck, Iroh and the Captain were there waiting for him, flanked by two of Zuko's soldiers. Opposite them, just stepping down from the walkway that had been extended from Zhao's cruiser to Zuko's Frigate, was the Commander himself, escorted by eight of his own men. As Zuko stepped forward, taking his place between his Uncle and the Captain, the Commander ignored him, instead greeting Iroh.

"The Dragon of the West," he said auspiciously. Zuko could have sworn he saw a smirk. "A pleasure to see you again, General, as always."

"Likewise, Commander." The two men saluted each other.

"It's Admiral, now," Zhao said with a predatory smile. "The Firelord has placed new importance on your search, and has given me new powers to assist you. Incidentally, have you made any new progress in your search for the Avatar?" The words _progress _and _Avatar _had a hint of venom behind them.

"After what we saw at the penitentiary, we thought it wise to restrain ourselves until the Navy could devote more resources to the effort."

"And here we are." Zhao extended his hands out to either side, in a wide gesture. His eyes narrowed as they flitted to Zuko.

"Prince Zuko," he said, bowing. The Prince reciprocated, maintaining eye contact. He let the slightest bit of smugness leak into his stoic expression, and was rewarded with an eyebrow twitch from Zhao.

"Commander. Have you considered my Uncle's proposal?"

"I have. And I have come to a decision, as well. Please, come aboard. I'm afraid your war room simply won't do." Zhao took a step to the side, gesturing for the Prince and his Uncle to follow him.

They marched across the walkway, Zuko glaring daggers at Zhao's back. Aboard the Admiral's cruiser, they were escorted to the ship's war room, a long rectangular bunker of a place, a Fire Nation flag on every wall, and a long, low table at it's center, on which a map of the Four Nations was engraved.

"Please, sit," Zhao said. He remained standing, and strode confidently to the head of the table. Then he began.

"The _devastation _at the detention rig is a clear indication of the Avatar's power, and has caught the Firelord's attention. For one person to be able to contend with our Navy to such a degree... I only wish you had reported the child's reappearance sooner, Prince Zuko."

Zuko's face remained a mask of indifference.

"Though he is... _concerned_ for the threat the Avatar poses, the Firelord is also impressed that you managed to survive an encounter with such an entity on not one, but _two _separate occasions. So, while high command _has_ technically put me in charge of all further search efforts," here he paused to glance at Zuko, who was scowling fiercely. This brought a confident smirk to the Admiral's face. "Prince Zuko is to remain in a position of power over said efforts."

"What does that mean?" Zuko demanded.

The door opened. In strode twelve men, all clad in a stylized version of the standard issue armor. Their version featured much more black, painted in stripes over the breastplates and shoulders, and striped over the greaves. They all wore helmets, which were painted black, save for their skull faceplates. The redesign appeared to have been done by hand, as none of the strokes of paint were exactly the same between the twelve. The group moved stiffly, marching to the wall behind Zhao, where they stood at attention, hands clasped behind their backs. Zuko noticed an array of weapons in the belts of each of them. There were several types of knife, a machete, and a bundle of thick, sturdy rope. He wondered if they were even Benders, decked out in so much close range weaponry.

"It means that while a great deal more resources are being deployed in search of the Avatar, directing a large amount of troops in pursuit of a single, tiny group will prove unsuccessful," Zhao continued. "Prince Zuko will lead a small, elite force in search of the Avatar, while reporting to me." Zuko's nose wrinkled at the thought. "In turn, Prince Zuko, you will be able to call on me to deploy troops for purposes such as containment and _management _of local populations, or any reinforcements you might need. I hope you do so wisely. The Firelord has put great faith in you, my Prince," there could not have been more cynicism in the word _Prince-_ "And seems confident that your experience will prove useful in command of the Sea Vipers." He gestured to the black-clad soldiers behind him.

The Sea Vipers took a step forward, and in unison, saluted, thought they did not turn so that they were specifically facing the Prince.

Iroh leaned forward, beginning to raise a hand. Zhao answered his question before it was asked.

"As for the Dragon of the West, the Firelord has expressed concern for the wellbeing of his brother, under such... strenuous circumstances. Rather than have you accompany the Prince and his squadron, you will be serving as advisor to this entire operation. I look forward to experiencing your wisdom, General Iroh."

"And I look forward to sharing it, Admiral," Iroh almost growled. Zuko had finally returned to his poker face, and he did not let it slip, but he was startled at the anger in his Uncle's voice. "I am glad that my brother has devoted such resources to our endeavor, and put a man as competent as you, Admiral, in charge. This looks to be a very fruitful campaign."

"I am inclined to agree with you, General Iroh."

Deep, respectful bows were given by all.

* * *

**Once again, constructive criticism is appreciated. **


	3. Chapter Three, In Which Things Begin

**DON'T OWN AVATAR. **

**Sorry this one took longer. Busy few days. **

* * *

The Swordmaster knew of the Avatar's return a full week before the Grand Lotus' letter reached him. When he had received the information, sitting in his study, overlooking the mountains, he had smiled to himself. _The tighter the noose, the looser the lips_, he had remarked, to no one in particular. Of course, it had been a tremendous defeat, one which gave the bilge rats and boiler crews good cause to spread rumor, but it had remained a general rule for many years that any intelligence not closely guarded traveled like lightning through the crews of the Imperial Navy. So the Swordmaster caught wind of the Avatar's reappearance, and devastating power (however exaggerated those stories actually were, he did not know) before the Grand Lotus contacted him on the matter.

The communique was not addressed specifically to him -or to any one individual, for that matter. They never were, no matter the intended recipient. No matter the _whom_ of the letters, they all passed through the Swordmaster first. It was only logical; none of the various resistance groups, fighting for independence from the Hu Xin provinces to Wulong forest, nor the great, free cities of the Earth Kingdom, had a method of communication so efficient and secure as the Fire Nation's network of messenger hawks. And of course, the Northern Water tribe had no information network at all -outside of White Lotus communications. All the letters came through the Fire Nation, to the Swordmaster's villa, before being redirected by any and all relevant parties, as indicated by their code names, or more often, the content of the letters themselves.

Unfortunately, his job was not simply the redirection of the letters. No, first there was the decoding. The Grand Lotus' communique, only traceable back to the Grand Lotus by it's phrasing, and only by the Swordmaster, was not an easily readable letter. It must have passed through the Yu Dao network hub, a dozen island posts, and finally both the outer and inner security grid of the homeland in order to reach the villa. And so the Grand Lotus had coded it, and quite cleverly so, as an intricate set of instructions pertaining to a complex Pai Sho strategy.

Piandao chuckled as he decoded the letter.

After almost a full hour of work, he sat back, massaging his neck, and called for Fat to bring him some tea. Letting the cup cool on his desk, he began to read his translation.

_My fellow Lotuses, and esteemed friends,_

_No doubt you have all received news, in some form or another, of the Avatar's return. While the rumors may be exciting, and many of them rooted in reality, I am afraid the truth is very troubling. I have encountered the Avatar in person, and through some twist of fate, he is only a child. Even worse, there has been no indication that he has mastered any element but his own. From my own intelligence, it seems as if he only poses a threat to the Fire Nation when confronted with extreme physical or emotional trauma. _

_The first and boldest rumor of the Avatar's return is true, and evidence that he has suffered such trauma. I fear he is in a place of turmoil. _

_In these dire circumstances, it may be our only hope to sacrifice tradition for necessity. The Avatar must be trained in the Elements not in order of the cycle, but in order of accessibility. He travels by way of his Flying Bison, which was last spotted over Chin Village, in the southeastern Earth Kingdom. The infamous Sea Vipers, led by Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, under command of Admiral Zhao of the Fire Nation, is in pursuit. Zhao is also likely to deploy a small army of ground troops wherever necessary. _

_I regret to inform you that I have been removed from the immediate pursuit. _

_Please dispatch agents as you see fit. _

* * *

It had been Katara's idea to relocate. With no idea if they were being pursued, it wasn't safe to stay in one place for too long -especially having flown in on Appa. So they took the slow way, Appa ambling through the forest, Aang and Katara on his back. As beautiful as the trees were, their leaves turning a hundred shades of red and gold high above, filtering the light down to the forest floor in altered hues, they were equally thick, which set both teens on edge. Aang could barely keep his mind off the horrible possibilities hidden in the underbrush, and so he did not object when Katara slid down from Appa's saddle, sitting behind Aang and wrapping her arms around his midsection, letting her head fall on his shoulder. At first his heartbeat skyrocketed, and he was sure she could feel it, though she gave no indication. But as the hours wore on, he relaxed, the feel of her against him becoming increasingly comfortable.

The trip was silent. Neither of them spoke a word, though occasionally Katara would hear something, and her head would jerk up off Aang's shoulder to scan the forest.

They stayed off the path to avoid detection (Aang's idea, this time), and though the underbrush was thick, a tangle of ferns and bushes that likely would have prevented them from going on foot, it was no problem for Appa. The bison's giant feet cleared an easy path through the forest. A few times Aang started to worry that the tracks they were leaving were too obvious, but glancing back, he could never see them, covered as they were by the vegetation, which sprung back into place as easily as it parted.

Though he tried his best to empty his mind of all thought, it was if there was a strange weight tethered to Aang, pulling him down into earthly thoughts. At first he blamed Katara for it. The combination of Appa's lumbering movements and her proximity proved extremely distracting. The parts of her that pressed against his back with every step, giving him a feel for her every- _OHMMM. _

_Ohmmm._

_Ohmmm. _

It worked for a time, but eventually, the weight began pulling again, and Aang couldn't help but _think. _He tried to fill his mind with visual input, letting his eyes dance over the beautiful painting that was the forest, but after several moments the hues of the canopy called fire into his mind.

_The flames swirled all around him, bending like water, surrounding him, a wall of heat. It was __**his **__fire, __**he **__was doing this, breathing it from his mouth, snatching up the frightened, desperate fireballs thrown at him by the soldiers that cluttered the deck, adding them to the tempest. Nonbenders turned and ran, dropping their weapons to the metal floor. From somewhere behind him came a rain of coals, pelting the soldiers, and he knew somewhere in the back of his screaming mind that the Earthbenders has seized their chance, but none of that mattered because_

_"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" _

_He thrust his hands out from his body, and the fire spun outwards, like the water had done at the South Pole, but this time the Firebenders were not pushed away or thrown from the deck. _

All those people. Burned and lost to the sea because one twisted warden had decided _"we only need the Avatar…"_

But it wasn't just the warden, was it? No it, couldn't be- the Fire Nation had to be full of men like him, who smiled as their men drove their knives into innocents, or hauled them away to be violated. It _had _to be. How could any other kind of man stand by as his country waged war on the others? As they slaughtered temples full of _children?_ It wouldn't be fair to say they were _all _like that, would it? Every Firebender? How could he make that call? He hadn't been there when they burned the temple, when Gyatso stood in a room full of them and-

Aang took a deep, shaky breath. Katara's head rose from his shoulder again, and he could feel her eyes on him, concerned.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just... breathing exercises."

No. They couldn't all be murderers, no matter what their wardens or their Firelords commanded them to do. _You must always remember that there is another human being behind every face you see. No matter what they have done, they are still human. Never forget this, Aang. _

He smiled to himself, suddenly elated at the memory of Gyatso's teaching, one that didn't include a grinning skull.

* * *

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the trees casting long shadows that streaked their path, they came to a stop just outside a small grove of redwoods. The trees were clustered together tightly, their gnarled roots leaving only a yard or so of even ground between them. Aang's brow furrowed in uncertainty as he dismounted from Appa's back.

Katara, muscles tense from constant alertness, felt an inexplicable instant of panic as the Airbender slid from her grasp. She made to follow him into the grove, but a painful twinge shot through her leg, and she succeeded only in readjusting herself.

Aang took several steps into the tiny clearing, then glanced back at his companions. Katara's gaze caught his first, her normally affectionate, nurturing look mixed with an uneasy one. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment -Aang was suddenly reminded of Gyatso, how his expression shifted when Aang first fell from his air-scooter, opening a long gash on his forearm which bled profusely- before darting back and forth across the scenery. _Checking for threats. _He frowned.

"Katara, you need to relax. Your leg won't heal if you stress yourself out."

She scowled. "I'm just trying to make sure we're safe. Doesn't it bother you that we have no idea what the Fire Nation has sent after us?"

"Of course, I'm just saying that-"

"I've never even left the South Pole, and _you've _never had to run or hide from anyone- we need to stay alert if we want to have _any _chance of-" Katara cut herself off, scrunching her eyes shut and turning her head away.

"Katara?"

"I… I'm trying to just relax, Aang. I really am. I just need to do some thinking, okay?"

Aang looked down, frowning. After a moment of thought, an idea popped into his head. He glanced back up at her.

"We could try meditating together."

Katara smiled, some of the unease melting off her already. Aang held her gaze for a moment, pleased to have made her happy again, if only for a moment. Then he began to unload their bags.

* * *

Zuko jogged along just behind the leader of the Sea Vipers, panting. They had been running nonstop since dawn, occasionally stopping to refill their canteens, which they drank from while moving, and only once to eat. All of them, Zuko included, carried their supplies on their backs, but as they traveled with only their weapons and a sleeping bag, plus what few accoutrements they needed for meals, it wasn't too much. What was wearing Zuko down was the armor. He had been fitted with a new suit, one more up-to-date with the current standard issue, and between the metal plating and the black paint that had been striped over it, Zuko felt as if he may as well be running in an oven.

With a grunt, the Prince poured more energy into his legs, letting the fire in his chest direct it's heat downwards. Then he looked down, locking his eyes on the uneven ground before him to distract from his own discomfort. The soil was hard-packed and rocky, barely sustaining the meager patches of grass that grew on it, and Zuko surmised that the area must have seen battle recently.

They were making their way through a sloping, hilly stretch of land between two forests, and though the incline of the ground was constantly shifting, Zuko preferred it to the forest floor, where the roots and bramble had made the going even harder. Off to the west, the sparse green patches grew thicker and closer, until the hills were covered in grass. Beyond this appeared to be a flat, grassy plain, and Zuko could see the distant dots of a village on the horizon. To the east was the ocean. The cliffs gave way to a long, sheer drop several hundred yards from their position. This Zuko was grateful for- he had removed his helmet earlier, both to relieve his suffering and to blend in with the Sea Vipers as they did the same, and now the sea breeze rushed over his face, soothing him, and drying his sweat.

Before long they came to a thin stream, which ran downhill with the general slope of the area, down towards the sea cliffs. Here they rested, and ate their second meal. The Sea Ravens' helmets remained strapped to their packs, giving Zuko an opportunity to steal a glance at each of their faces.

The Sea Ravens appeared to be half homelander, half colony-born. A few of them even had the slightest green tinge to their eyes, the result of murky heritage on the Earth Kingdom mainland, suggesting low-born origins. The captain, however, could have been mistaken for nobility. His eyes were golden, though dimmer than Zuko's, more intermixed with brown. His skin was pale, despite however many years he had served in Earth Kingdom territory- there was a scar, the remnant of what must have been a horrific gash, originating somewhere below his neck and ending just short of his jawline. Then there was that _distortion _in the flesh of his forehead, where it looked like a large section of his skin had been sown back together. Both were surely Earthbender-inflicted wounds.

The captain's name was Sao Shan. He was the only Sea Viper Zuko knew by name- the rest went by nicknames. It was jarringly unprofessional, in Zuko's opinion, but a part of the dynamic of their group, which the Prince knew better than to disrupt. Uncle had managed to teach him a few things about commanding soldiers.

As the Sea Vipers crouched around the stream, finishing their meal, Zuko took inventory of their faces. There was Sao Shan, serious as Zuko himself, Kamo (short for Kamelephant -he was a large man, but possessed an uncanny sort of stealth), Spitfire (Zuko guessed he was Firebender), Knives, Gila, Mongoose, Prickly, Rasper, Captain, Jumper, Jerky, and Li. "Captain" wasn't actually the captain, but that was her name. Sao Shan was simply addressed as "Sao". Gila, Mongoose, and Captain were the only women in the squad.

Finishing his silent run-through of their identities, Zuko caught Sao Shan's eyes scanning the clouds. Swallowing his last bit of meat, he spoke up.

"Don't bother looking for the bison. Once we see it, you'll be able to spot it with a glance."

The captain (not _Captain_) looked down at him, his face a mask of indifference. He regarded the Prince for a moment, then asked "what color is it's underbelly?" His voice was deceptively light, nowhere near the gravelly tone one would expect from a man with his visage. It was, however, cold, betraying the grim nature of his work.

Zuko looked around, then indicated one of the leather straps of his pack.

That was all anyone said that day. Moments later, they were back on the road, Zuko jogging just behind Sao Shan, thinking about not the Avatar, but his own new, strange command.

* * *

Aang and Katara sat side by side on their single tarp, both in the lotus position. Whatever serene world Aang was in, Katara was not. She couldn't fathom how the boy could block out all the sounds. There was the creaking of the trees, the wind through the leaves, the shifting of all the vegetation. Tiny animals could be heard skittering through the underbrush. Birds called overhead. Most distracting of all was the _drip drip dripping _of the water falling from one of the redwoods, which couldn't have been more than a few feet in front of her, from the sound of it. After a few long moments of straining against the ambience, her face contorted in frustration. She opened her eyes, looking around as silently as possible so as not to disturb Aang. She watched him, curious for any clues into his process. He looked so serene -his face was expressionless, but at the same time not twisted with the same rage or grief as Katara had seen in the past several days. She fought the sudden urge to hug him, instead letting her eyes dance over his tattoos. He had removed his shirt before they sat down -something about feeling the flow of the air.

Katara had never seen a boy her age, other than Sokka. All the males of her tribe were either much younger, ranging from infants to toddlers, or already full adults, in which case they had sailed away with her father to join the war effort. She was quick to admit to herself that she had no one to compare Aang to, but regardless, found her eyes drawn to Aang's body, now that his torso was bared in front of her. He was not muscular like the Water Tribe men -or at all, for that matter. In place of bulk, however, was a lean, sinewy sort of strength_, _a slim _fitness_ she suddenly found it hard to tear her eyes from. Her thoughts strayed to their ride on Appa. Of course, she had sat with him, put her arms around him to sate her protective instincts, but what came next was something else. Something about the way she shifted against him with Appa's every step, something about the feeling of his back against her chest, had stirred something up inside her. It was different from the butterflies she felt that time watching Haru Earthbend in the forest, that fluttering in her belly. To be sure, the fluttering was there as she ever so subtly pressed herself against Aang, wanting more of this new feeling, but it was more like a _heat _that sat low in her belly, almost at her... _oh. _

Gran-Gran had told her this, several months before they had freed Aang from the ice, sat her down and had this _talk_ with her, but it had been so ridiculous, so foreign, so... _oogie_, then. But now, her eyes dancing over the Airbender's bare torso, his tattoos, bits of it suddenly slid into place.

Katara felt her cheeks heating up, and tore her hungry eyes away. They scanned what little of the forest she could see through the redwoods -Appa napping, Momo foraging for berries, only his tail visible in the bushes- before snapping shut again.

She sat in silence, perplexed. She turned her mind away from this new feeling that Aang had _something_ to do with, and focused on _how in Tui's name I'm supposed to sit here and not think of anything!_

Well, at least she wasn't worrying over Aang anymore, or crying, or trying to walk on her injured leg.

The _drip_ of the water hitting the ground cut through her frustrations.

_Water._

Maybe that was something. Aang had... _stripped down_ in order to feel the flow of the Air. Maybe that was it, maybe she just needed to focus on something instead of blocking everything out. But there wasn't enough water here for that, was there?

She waited, listening to the _drip, drip, drip... _with a deep breath, she opened her palms, trying to feel for the familiar _push _and _pull,_ if such a thing was even present in such a tiny amount of water. It took what felt like hours, but finally she could feel the droplets once they fell within a few feet of her. But she lost the feeling as soon as they burst on the ground, and there was no _push,_ no _pull_ that she could feel. Katara frowned.

Suddenly, a sigh from Aang grabbed her attention. It wasn't a release of stress, no, there was grief in it, frustration. She could hear his breathing growing heavy, and opened her eyes.

Aang's posture remained the same, completely upright, stomach sucked in, but his hands were balled into fists, and they were clenched tightly, quivering. His nostrils flared in and out with every breath. His brow was furrowed. Katara watched as his expression fell from it's serenity into grief, and felt it as well, her protective urges rising back up within her, undoing the soothing effect of the meditation. She raised her hands, almost without meaning to, until they were just inches from his back and shoulders, but stopped herself before she touched him. _Maybe he had to work through it, maybe if he can just- _

But a sound that was half quiet sob, half frustrated growl leaked from Aang's lips, and his eyes snapped open angrily. His posture crumbled, and he slouched forward, fists finding the tarp between his crossed legs. Katara let her hands grasp his shoulder and back, gently. Slowly, he turned to her, and she could see tears gleaming in his grey eyes. Scooting forward, she pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he said, almost laughing, though the brimming tears could be heard in his voice. "I'm supposed to be the calm one."

"It's okay to be hurt, Aang. Right now it's _good. _That's how you should feel..."

"I know. The monks taught me all that. _Gyatso _taught me that. But now they're _gone_, and all I can do is "clear them from my mind" along with everything else. They're _dead,_ and I'm dealing with it by forgetting they existed."

Aang wasn't crying. He was holding back his tears, hardening his face as best he could. Katara thought she might.

"You're _not _forgetting Aang. You're here, with me," she held him closer, "with all their teachings in you. I guess... I guess they're here with you, in a way."

As she finished, she pulled back, searching the boy's face. To her dismay, his grief and frustration only gave way to anger.

"I keep thinking about the soldiers at the prison. I keep seeing myself _killing them_, violating everything the monks taught me... and all I can think... is how maybe that was okay."

Katara felt her heart skip a beat.

"How maybe it doesn't matter that they're just taking orders. There's a whole army out there, 'just taking orders', isn't there? But they killed my people, and they kill more people every day. I just... what are we supposed to do, Katara?"

She stared at him for a long time, her eyes into his. The butterflies weren't there, replaced instead by fear.

_I can't just lie to him. Not to Aang._

"Whatever we have to."


End file.
